


Five Times Peter Was Reckless

by RandomFanfictions



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Attempted Suicide, Depression, Hurt Peter Parker, OOC, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, THIS IS SO OOC, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Tony Stark Has A Heart, author is severely sleep deprived, may doesnt know that peter is spiderman ok, tony stark is iron dad, trigger warning, whoops, wow I’m just giving spoilers for this fic aren’t I
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-05-06 02:18:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14632035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RandomFanfictions/pseuds/RandomFanfictions
Summary: +1 time Tony noticed it





	1. 1. Drunk

**Author's Note:**

> 'All your unfinished fics?' I hear you ask as I start writing this one, well my dear children, that is to come soon, but in the meantime, enjoy a nice angst 5+1 fic

**1\. Drunk**

Alright, so going out to Flash's party may _not_ have been the best idea he's had, but to be fair, he already knew what he was getting into before he arrived and he was honestly a little excited for it. According to rumors, Flash was going to have a bunch of alcohol that he's managed to snag from his (very) rich parents' stash and there would be a lot of vodka. 

It would be a night he would not remember...probably because he'd black out. 

When Friday night rolled around, Peter ran around as Spider-Man until the party would start. He shot a quick text to May, telling her that he would be staying over at Ned's and told Ned that he was with Mr. Stark and to cover for him if May called. At around 9, the teen made it to the house and the moment the door opened, the overpowering stench of spiked punch assaulted his senses. He power through it anyway, grabbing his own red solo cup and talking to some of the other people at the party.

Over the next couple of hours, Peter managed to down about twelve full solo cups worth of alcohol and now he felt a little more than tipsy. For the most part, his metabolism burned right through the liquor, shot after shot he still could see straight while older teenagers started to throw up from it all. 

Some of the others must've noticed that he was no lightweight and they started giving him a variety of mixed drinks. He wasn't sure whether or not they were going to drug him, but Peter didn't care anyway. Ever since homecoming, nightmares always plagued his mind. Panic attacks were a common occurrence and he felt like he was hitting an all time low. The teen felt even worse now than he did after Ben. Sue him if he wants to drink, if he wants to get drunk, to not remember.

He's seen things that he wished he hadn't. Been through things that he wished he hadn't. 

Every time he closes his eyes, all he can feel is concrete crushing him, forcing the air from out of his lungs. 

Peter just wants to forget.

Its around three in the morning, and that's when he passes out. After drinking what must've been an entire liquor store, he goes unconscious. It doesn't last long. 

He wakes up maybe an hour later to some girl next to him playing with his pant buckle. He throws her off of himself without thinking, but his movements are uncoordinated. 

"Don't you want me" the girl slurs. He can't tell under the dark lighting, but she has to be at _least_ 18 and there is no way he is letting her touch him at all. The only somewhat cognate part of his brain shouted at him to leave, so he stumbled to his feet and tried walking his way out of the maze of people.

By the time Peter found the door, three more people had offered him drinks, which he took gratefully. Anything to keep him from being sober. 

The fifteen year old had walked a block before remembering that he told everyone he was spending the night with other people so there was no way he could go to the apartment or to Ned's, so drunk Peter's head decided that finishing the rest of the night as Spider-Man would be the best option. His stomach hurt and he felt sick, but he decided to go out anyway.

He only fell over twice trying to put on the suit, but as soon as he put on the mask, Karen had immediately started telling him to talk to Mr. Stark

"No, 'm good, Kar'n" he garbled

"Peter, your blood alcohol concentration is as .236%, you are at high risk of blacking out. You may be also experiencing dysphoria, nausea, vomiting, and total mental confusion along with slurred speech, blurry vision, and loss of balance"

Hm, now that he thought about it, he did feel really sick. Actually, he might puke right now.

The teenager pulled the mask above his nose and retched into a nearby garbage can. Slumping over to the ground, he could hear Karen attempting to call Mr. Stark. It made his head hurt a little bit. Thank God he made sure to only let the AI call Stark without permission when he was in mortal danger.

"S'good. 'm good" he mumbles, forcing himself to stand up again as he tried to shoot a web. After a couple of tries, he got it. He didn't get very far before he ended up missing and falling a good twenty feet and hit the floor with a hard _thud_.

Luckily for him, he fell right into an alley where some dude was trying to mug a couple of girls. He got up again, trying his hardest to not vomit again, and began to fight the man.

His movements were sluggish and if it weren't for that spidey sense, he'd probably dead, but he managed to web up the guy and get away with only one gunshot wound. The rest of the night had consisted of only stopping a couple more petty muggings and he ended the night pretty banged up. Somewhere around five or six was when Karen had alerted him that his B.A.C. was going down and by noon, he would be completely sober, but with a major hangover. 

The kid groaned as he started his way back to the apartment. 

He arrived around 8, when he knew that Aunt May had already left to work some extra shifts at the hospital. There was still a lingering sense of drunkness that felt like it was clouding his entire vision, but after he pulled off the suit, the sharpness of his injuries seemed to clear away some of the fog. 

Peter sat himself on the toilet seat and forced himself to try and clean stab wounds and grabbed some tweezers to pick out a stray bullet. Sometimes its surprising how much humans bleed. It's a little fascinating, he thought. A few hours had passed, but he was still bleeding when he had peeled off the suit and yanked the scabs back off. They were bleeding again and he wasn't sure if it could be some slight affect of blood loss or the fact he was still intoxicated, but it was mesmerizing how the body would keep on bleeding from a wound that wasn't too severe. Papercuts bleed and they only cut through a layer or two of skin. 

He's getting off track. Wait, what was he supposed to be- _oh yeah, wounds._

The room started feeling a little too bright now, shit. Was it.. _moving?_

Who knows.

God, he feels dizzy.

Seconds later and Peter falls to his knees, puking out whatever was left in his stomach, gripping the toilet seat tightly with his cold, clammy hands. Thinking about blood was not helping when he is still pretty fucked up. 

When he empties everything out, he flushes and slumps to the side, leaning on the edge of the bath. 

_Wounds. He needs to patch it all up, right._

As carefully as a drunk person can with shaky hands, he disinfects himself and wraps gauze around what portions of himself that need it the most. When he finishes, he puts away everything and throws himself on the bed, partially aware of the hell he's going to have when the alcohol wears off.

He wanted to have a good time for once, sue him.


	2. Drugs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is like,, rly ooc whoops

**2\. Drugs**

Funny how Peter seems to go after the things that are the worst for him. Fighting men with guns, knives, weapons meant to destroy. He drinks any alcohol he can find. Now he adds drugs to the list. 

He goes around smoking a blunt at some parties, takes unknown pills with random people, but the one constant is cigarettes.

It had all started innocent enough, getting his wisdom teeth removed and being prescribed some painkillers. Hydrcodone+oxycodone. The problem, however, was that he has an enhanced metabolism, resulting in the need for something stronger. 

He took ten pills instead of one. 

Peter would’ve been fine. He _is_ fine, it just happens to be a highly addictive narcotic. 

It only took that one time before he wanted to feel like that. 

Months have gone by since he first started and no one has been able to tell. 

For the most part, he gets his stuff from the rich kid's parties. They all do whatever they want and have the money to get it. He wouldn't call himself friends with any of the people there, rather just someone they trust to not spill their secret. 

Anything he could possibly get his hands on, he would take. 

Peter didn’t care about his health. He didn’t care about his appearance. Sunken eyes, waxy pale skin. Yellowing teeth. If Aunt May hadn’t been working so many shifts, she might’ve noticed. She might’ve noticed how he leaves the apartment wearing the same outfit so that any scent or trace of drugs was only on that one pair. Maybe she would be able to see that his fingers were darkening from nicotine. Or how he’s lost ten pounds in two weeks. 

If she didn’t work so hard and spend so many hours at the hospital where she works to pay for school, maybe she would check the mail first and see Peter’s report card. Grades steadily dropping since the first couple months of school. 

She might notice that Ned doesn’t show up much anymore, or how MJ doesn’t like to even look at him. There’s a chance that she could figure out Peter sits alone every lunch until the silence is too much and he goes outside to smoke. 

To do anything to distract him from the real world. 

This wasn’t something that happened overnight. Ever since he started being Spider-Man, he’s always wondered what it would be like to do some of those things. To take those drugs. If people were willing to murder for it, it must be good. 

Until now, Peter’s had a reason not to do it. Something to fight for. He was always worried about the damage it could do to him until now. 

Right now, he could absolutely not care _any_ less about himself.

The one thing he did do was make sure to wait before a drug was flushed from his system to take another. His healing factor and metabolism definitely helped on that part. If not, he'd look like a meth addict that's been hiding under a rock for twenty years. 

He needs breaks in between to keep it all a secret, using the last bit of sanity he had to form some kind of self preservation in order to make himself presentable. It wasn't because he wanted it. Honestly, all he wanted was to be in his room, dying from an overdose. He would only stop momentarily for the sake of his Aunt, the woman that worked so hard to keep him safe. 

She commented once about thinking she saw something drug related around the apartment building and peter had to get rid of his stashes. Over several months of this, he had gotten himself hooked, but the one thing he kept was the cartons of cigarettes he would go through daily. 

One while he waited for the bus, another two during lunch, a couple more in the afternoon, and however many he would take while watching the street life from below. 

They were his only friends because he ruined the ones he had with the others. Ned might've been catching on at some point, or was just worried like always. Peter snapped back at him, telling him to stop. He wouldn't and then Peter told he he couldn't stand being around him anymore. MJ hear and tried calling him out on his bullshit. He didn't listen. Told her that he doesn't want to be around a hypocrite like her, always being mean to her friends, but can't take it when someone fights back. That's why she only has Ned to hang out with, because no one likes her. 

It hurt so much to say something like that. He's never once said anything half as rude to her, but he hadn't found any more drugs and smoking can only get you so far, especially when theres too many people around to take one without being caught. Peter was upset, angry and just needed something to make the pain disappear.

He knew he shouldn't have said that.

He keeps ruining everything.

That's why he needs something - anything - to stop it.

He needs something to make him forget. Alcohol only goes so far before you need something else to numb the pain. It was like a game for Peter, see how far he could go before it would collapse. He was living in a house of cards, just the slightest breeze could knock it all down. Peter would run out in his suit, high and drunk. Those were the nights he would get hurt so bad he thought he might have to go to a hospital. All he did was stitch it up himself and keep going. 

The teenager didn't go to the compound anymore for suit upgrades, he could do it himself. He ignored calls or texts. He isolated himself and his only true friends were his demons inside. 

Who cares, all he needs is the feeling of calmness that comes from the drag of the cig he was smoking or to feel the sting of alcohol remind him he's not entirely numb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow this is so emo haha, ok yeah this is super out of character, sorry


	3. Insomnia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SO SORRY IM CRAP AT UPDATING

**3\. Insomnia**

“Karen, could you go over my call logs?” He asks as he sits on top of 12 floored building, feet dangling over the edge.

“Of course, Peter. From this month have 7 missed calls from Tony Stark, 1 new text from your Aunt May, and 1 missed call from Happy Hogan.” Karen’s cool robotic was calm as ever, but Peter could help but hear slight worry as an undertone. He must be imagining it.

“What did Aunt May say?” He feels himself exhale a puff of smoke into the air and he can’t help but to wonder what would kill him first, the smoking or being a vigilante.

“The message reads: ‘Hey Pete, I’m doing a double shift so I won’t be home until tomorrow sometime after school, do you want to go out for Thai if I pick you up?’. She typed in the less than sign with the number three, to which I assume, is to make a heart.”

The smallest of smiles appears on his face for half a second before he remembers that he’s the reason why she’s working so hard in the first place and it fades away. 

“Tell her I say yeah with a smiley face. Colon with half a parenthesis.” 

“Yes, Peter. I am aware of how smiles work without the use of emojis.” Karen almost sounds like she’s teasing him more than informing him. The smile returns to his face again. 

The teen sits there for who knows how long. He remains motionless as the wind pushes against him, making him feel colder than he already was in the suit, but not bothering to put on the heater. 

It isn’t until he’s finished his 5th cigarette does he decide it’s time to jump down and fight some crime. Spider-Man doesn’t get days off. 

He makes it through a bank robbery, stops a handful of muggings, then helps an old lady cross the road before a flashing icon appears in front of his eyes. 

**[Incoming Call: Tony Stark]**

It startled him for just a moment before he regained his composure, “Karen, mute the notification, but let it ring.”

“Peter, it is unwise to not answer Mr. Stark, you’ve been avoiding almost every call for the past 5 months ago. What happened?” The AI sounded so sincere, but he wouldn’t be fooled by a machine. 

“I’ve been busy, and I need to go stop whatever’s going on over there across the street more than I need to hear Mr. Stark lecture me about something.”

Well, that’s not necessarily a lie. 

Through the suit, Tony can monitor everything happening. He can see if Peter’s drunk, high, not sleeping, not eating, getting hurt, etc. That’s why he had to reprogram some things in Karen’s software. Go in and edit some features, remove connectors manually that would interfere with information being sent away from the suit to the main servers that stores information from Tony’s other suits. 

Ever since he did that, he’s been getting calls. They didn’t start until one night when he ran into Ironman while stopping some underground group of criminals and he had been shot. Tony tried to get a reading from the suit, but it wouldn’t go through. Initially, he thought that the bullet must’ve destroyed some important piece of tech or that Peter had which was causing the disconnect, but after the fight was over and they both were patched up, he realized what had happened. 

Peter ran before he could fix it or talk to him about it. Since then, he’s been calling, but they’ve gotten fewer and fewer now. 

He doesn’t need anyone to baby sit him. Peter’s a 15 year old super human. 

He’s fine. 

* * *

Eventually, Peter brought himself back home. It was 6:23 am when he managed to slide through his open window. He went to his bed and grabbed his secret first aid kit then walked over to the bathroom where the teen assessed the damage and went cleaned it up a bit. Luckily, no bullets to remove this time, so all he had to do was stitch it up and put on a nice big bandage. Problem solved.

He grabbed an apple to start eating for breakfast. Vaguely, Peter remembers hearing once somewhere that an apple can give you the same amount of energy as a cup of coffee or something like that. Didn't really matter, he wasn't really hungry but needed to eat so that his healing factor would kick in and start fixing himself right up. Not to mention he _did_ need all the energy he could get since sleeping wasn't really a thing he'd been doing recently. 

It wasn't even nightmares that were stopping him from sleeping-- he could _feel_ the exhaustion tug at his body, making him want nothing more than to curl up into a ball and sleep forever. Unfortunately, each time he's left there in his room, he can't seem to keep his eyes shut for long. It was one of the cruelest things to be so tired but unable to rest.

There was still another twenty minutes left until it was time for him to take the bus, and a look in the mirror told him that if he met his aunt after school, she'd probably send him to the hospital because he closer resembled a recently deceased kid that was barely walking around. His hair was greasy and knotted, there was still sweat on his brows, and he probably stunk. 

One shower later, he was able to successfully wash off all the dirt and grime he'd gained and only reopened one cut in the process. It was one of the older more shallow ones that hadn’t healed up all the way yet because he was absolute shit at making sure he was eating the right kind of foods. 

The school day went by fast enough, nothing interesting since there was no one to talk to. Flash tried giving him some shot about quitting decathlon, but one cold stare from Oeter got him to shut up rather fast. Must be the dark shadows under his eyes or the overall vibes that seemed to say “I would all your soul to Satan for a corn chip” that he’s been giving off recently. 

By the time Aunt May had shown up in front of the big gates, he was already dreading seeing her but forced himself to go through with it anyway. He said he would meet up with her so he’s gotta commit to it. There’s an unsettling feeling in his stomach when he jumps into the passenger’s side of the car. This was going to be the first time she’s actual,y had a good look at him in months. He doesn’t blame her at all for not spending time with him; Aunt May has to pay rent and provide food with a salary that doesn’t really cover everything. Peter also takes up double the usual amount of food an average teen eats which does _not_ help in any way. 

“You look a little sick there, Pete.” May furrows her brows in concern, “Maybe you should stay home from school tomorrow.” 

“No no, I promise I’m okay. I think I’m just getting over something. I also haven’t slept too well trying to study for my chem test.” He adds, internally wincing at his barely passing grades. 

“Hm, alright,” she doesn’t sound completely convinced, but doesn’t press any further. “Thai time?”

“Thai time.” He confirms, nodding solmnly.

* * *

“Peter, you have been wearing the suit for 75 hours and have not slept.” Karen says, concerned. 

But again, robots can’t be concerned. Maybe he was finally hallucinating and this was some sort of fever dream. 

“I _can’t_ sleep, okay?”

“You also haven’t gone out as Spider-Man the entire time you’ve worn the suit.”

He grumbles slightly to himself, clenching his fists and releasing them. Recently, he’s been feeling more and more paranoid. He doesn’t know why or what’s causing it. It could be the drug withdrawals, that _is_ a common symptom, but it might be his spidey senses spiking because of his lack of sleep. But the anxiety is what’s causing him to lose sleep. God, it was one big chain and he doesn’t know how to break it. 

By wearing the suit, it gives him some sort of safe feeling. He put on to eat dinner with May and hasnt taken it off since. Actually, after their dinner, he decided that he didn’t like the way she kept eyeing him like he was going to break and wanted to take care of himself a little better just so that she’d get off his case and found out he couldn’t make himself go to bed. There was probably fifteen minutes where he was unconscious, but he woke up fast with cold sweat and tears in his eyes. 

“I like the heater; it’s cold in my room.” He lies, not exactly knowing why he’s lying to a piece of tech. 

“You refuse to use it while fighting enemies.” Karen says in an almost accusatory tone. Who is he kidding, knowing Karen it probably was an accusation. 

“I’ll go out later tonight if that’s what you’re trying to get me to do.”

“No, fighting in your condition would be one of the worst possible things!” 

“How do you know?” Peter has officially lost it, challenging a _computer_ that can read his diagnostics, telling him he should _not_ fight. 

“How many picture frames are there on the wall?” Her voice is cool and collected once more.

“Seven.” Peter shakes his head, this was stupid. “There’s seven. Four with me and May, one when with my parents, and two with Ben.”

“Peter, there are four in total. Two with you and May, one with your Uncle, and one with your parents.” 

“What? No!” He points his finger at the wall, “There’s two right there and the other two right under— _what?_ ”

“Fighting in your current condition can be deadly, Peter. I advise going to bed or contacting Mr. Stark if you are having issues with sleeping as I’m suspecting.”

“I’ll go with the third option.” He flops down on his bed, feeling the bed shift under his weight. His arms feel like lead and the teen doesn’t want to get up. 

“There was no third option, I’m not beginning to worry that you symptoms may be—“

“I’m taking off the suit, goodbye.” One harsh smack to the spider emblem on the suit has it shut off, but he can’t make himself completely remove it. It’s all the way under his pajamas anyway and it would be too much work to get it off. 

Peter decides to spend the rest of the night staring at his ceiling counting down the minutes and wishing for sleep to take his mind far away from here. It never comes and that night, Peter makes a mental note to draw on constellations with glow-in-the -dark markers soon. 

It doesn’t seem like he’d be able to get any rest soon anyway. 

When the door unlocks itself and closes up again somewhere around 3 in the morning, Peter senses a small weight lifted off his chest, but it did nothing to help his overall paranoia that was plaguing his thoughts. 

Maybe a cigarette could help with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this chapter was short. I’ve had part of it just waiting here in the drafts and I just needed to post it. I was gonna write out the whole thing with aunt May but then it started taking too long and the main point of the chapter was insomnia so I cut it out oops sorry again

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve got a [tumblr](https://marvelherosaredorks.tumblr.com) and an [instagram](https://instagram.com/genericresponse?utm_source=ig_profile_share&igshid=161029qhh46cc) if u wanna yell at me


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